Anya Bast - Witch Heart

No, he wasn't going to let her endanger herself again. He just wasn't. Ultimately, he didn't care what the cost would be.

Adam unlocked his jaw long enough to speak. "Can you both leave now?"

"Sure," answered Thomas. "Doc Oliver says she should be waking up soon. She'll probably want to see you first anyway."

Adam followed the two men out and closed the door behind them. He still felt raw, hostile, from watching Claire undergo the spell. And the stupid thing had failed! The elium still dwelt within her.

The room was much like any other guest room at the Coven. The first room was a small living room, complete with an entertainment center and a hotel-sized refrigerator. Off that room a short hallway led to a bathroom and one or more bedrooms. Some people, like himself, lived at the Coven full-time. They had full apartments, complete with kitchens. Claire's guest room wasn't far from his place.

He slipped back down the semidarkened hallway, shedding clothes as he went. Once in her room, he slid into bed bedside her and pulled her close, inhaling that odd foreign flower scent her hair always held. No amount of shampooing seemed to make it fade. He suspected it was something found on Eudae, yet it seemed like a natural part of her.

Her body was warm and soft, her breathing deep. If he closed his eyes he could almost pretend she wasn't unconscious from a backfired spell, but that she merely slept. If he concentrated just a bit harder, he could imagine away the demons, the elium… Rue. He could forget about all the things that lay between them, all the things that separated them.

But he couldn't forget about Eliza.

Adam's eyes snapped open as her face flashed on the back of his lids. On the night Eliza had been killed, he'd felt a bit like he did now — raw, frayed emotion leaving a bitter taste on the back of his tongue, anger at himself over his inability to keep her safe. Grief.

If he parsed out all the threads of feeling forming the tight ball in the center of his stomach, he was sure he'd find love tangled up in there — unwanted, unwelcome, uncontrollable — love for Claire.

He couldn't be sure when the first stirrings of it had begun to affect him. It had been like sickness. He'd been exposed to the germ of it unknowingly and days later the fever of it had hit him.

Even though he knew it was irrational, it still felt like the worst kind of cheating. Admitting he had these emotions for Claire meant he was betraying the seven-year-long vigil he'd been keeping for Eliza.

Gods help him, there was nothing he could do about it. He was being swept away in the currents, too tired to fight any longer.

He didn't sleep, not even when the light outside filtered to darkness and enveloped the room in its inky, velvety protection. All through the night, he held her, ready to strike away any danger that came near, but no demons came but the ones he held inside himself.

Sometime just short of daylight, Claire shifted against him, roused, and opened her eyes. She gasped in pain and blinked.

"How do you feel?" Adam asked immediately, even though he knew from the gasp it couldn't be good.

She made a low sound. "My chest hurts. It feels like someone punched me there." Her voice sound rusty and rough. "How are the witches?"

"Last I heard, fine. I told Thomas to come get me if they were attacked. So far, nothing. Maybe your trick with the elium was more effective than we thought."

"Maybe." She paused. "The spell didn't work. I can still feel the elium inside me."

He kissed her temple. "Yeah, we know. Just try to relax now, okay? The spell Micah used really punched you a good one."

"Is Micah going to try again?"

He pressed his lips together. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

She said nothing for several moments, then turned to face him. Shadows played over the silken skin of her cheek and caught around the curve of her lip. "It's my only chance, Adam."

"He could've killed you."

She shook her head. "He didn't. You were there to stop him before he took it too far."

"What if next time I can't stop him before you really get hurt?"

"Adam, if the spell Micah brews up doesn't take the elium from me, the demons will do more than just hurt me. You know that. We have to be rational about this."

He pulled her close to him. "Yeah, well, let's just take it one moment at a time, okay? Micah hasn't even cooked up a new spell yet."

"It was wrong what you did back at the cabin, forcing me to come here and leaving them behind as bait." Her voice had gone hard and tight.

He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "I did the best thing I could to keep you safe."

She lay unresponsive in his arms, not answering. Her breasts rested against his arm and the rise and fall of her breathing calmed him. Her presence was warm, comforting, a little arousing, too, if truth was told, even though he understood she was pissed at him.

His hands slid over her curves, gentling her, trying to make amends without using words. Her breathing hitched and she sighed, her breath warm against his chest. She snuggled in closer to him and her body gave up some of its rigidity.

He let his hands explore a little more until they were both breathing heavier and their bodies were growing warmer, tangling a bit closer.

Neither of them spoke. Adam preferred to use his hands and lips to do that, to make Claire his in the one way he knew best. Little by little, he removed her clothes — got her hot and bothered with his stroking hands and the nips and kisses he landed on her body.

He built her up slowly, gently, aware that she was recovering from a bad trauma. His hands slipped over her breasts, teased her nipples, and explored every peak and valley of them. She parted her thighs for him when he murmured he wanted her to, and his hand slid between them.

He traced every inch of her sex, warm and slick from her growing excitement. Sliding within, her muscles clenched around his thrusting fingers, milking them for the pleasure he gave her as little moans and sighs fell from her lips and her dark eyelashes feathered down against her pale cheek.

Her clit had extended from its hood, swollen and begging for attention. In her sexual abandon, Claire had lain back against the pillows, her hair a tangle around her pretty face. Her hands explored his chest and petted his cock, but he wanted satisfaction for her right now. He wanted to put his mark on her body, if he couldn't put it on her heart. Adam wanted to remind her that he had power over her — the power of pleasure.

So he lowered his mouth to her breast to lick and suck one hard, beautiful nipple while he stroked her aching clit over and over. He drank in the little sounds she made, every one of her sighs. He loved it especially when she moved her hips as though looking for something to fill her and murmured his name.

Finally, her orgasm bloomed over her body with a burst and a long sigh. He rode her through her climax, stroking her steadily to extend the shudders of pleasure as long as they would go.

When it was over, she sagged against the mattress and made a sound of contentment, like a cat in cream. Then she rolled to him, tangled her fingers around his neck, and kissed him.

"Make love to me, Adam," she murmured.

He gently nipped her lower lip and smiled. "Later. You need to recover now. I just couldn't resist touching you a little."

Claire closed her eyes for a moment and he saw her fatigue. "I like to make love with you. It makes the worlds go away for a while. It's like an escape."

"Sleep is an escape, too, and you need sleep more right now."

"Will you stay with me?"

"Of course."

Claire was silent for several moments, fitting her body close to his. "I can't get my mind off the witches, Adam. I don't know if I can sleep."